supremequeen
"Oof!" a pain shot through John's bad shoulder, and he was sent crashing to the floor, flat on his face. His walking stick clattered to the floor in front of him. At first, he didn't think the person who'd knocked him over was going to help him up, but he was mistaken.
"Forgive me... I didn't see you, I was quite consumed in my thoughts." came a smooth baritone voice, as a strong, but slender hand helped him up. "Did I hit your bad shoulder? I'm Sherlock, by the way..."
"John... And how did you know?"
The mysterious Sherlock simply handed John his walking stick, and left, leaving John with only a wink, before he disappeared into the crowd.
"SHERLOCK!" John called. "WE'RE GOING TO MISS THE PLANE!"
"Calm down, John." Sherlock said, walking casually out of his room with a small suitcase. "We still have a minute until we have to leave to get there on time."
"Still... I didn't think you'd take so long."
"I was packing."
"You hadn't packed!?"
"I'd packed half of it, but essentials had to go in last."
"Alright, alright, let's go then."
They hurried down the stairs.
"Have fun boys!" called Mrs Hudson. Sherlock rolled his eyes. It would only be fun for John. There wasn't a single case on this desert island THING Mycroft was sending them to... But then, who needed a case anyway? Sherlock had other plans...
Sherlock's hand was shaking. His hand never shook. He gulped. He never gulped. There was a simple reason for his unnatural behaviour. Moriarty sat in his living room, with John tied up and gagged in the chair next to him.
"Hurry up and pour the tea now, Sherlock, or someone might get hurt." Moriarty sang, smiling as he poked John's face with his gun. John had tears streaming from his eyes and he stared at Sherlock, pleading for him to have a plan...
Sherlock didn't have one. Moriarty had finally found his weak spot. His mind had ground to a halt, and all he could do was to follow his instructions to keep John alive...
He looked rediculous.
John tried to stifle a chuckle as Sherlock struggled.
"John!" he cried. "-elp!"
He stifled another chuckle as he tugged at Sherlock's sleeve violently.
Suddenly, Sherlock tumbled onto the floor, strangely gracefully, despite his pout. Yet John still couldn't ignore the fact that he was covered, head to toe, in straw.
It was brief. Quick. Simple. Clean. And yet so very, very complex and confusing.
They sat apart for a while. Their eyes met, but dropped to the floor almost immediately.
Sherlock's emotions were running wild. Emotions?
John was stunned. He couldn't move.
It had been as he had left for work earlier. All Sherlock had done was bent down and kissed him on the cheek.
This didn't strike either of them as odd until John was halfway to work in a taxi, at which point their faces both became the image of confusion, then shock, then embarrassment, and finally horror.
When John had got home, neither had said anything. John made tea, and sat in his chair, and Sherlock sat in his chair, where he had been for most of the day... It was a full three days before either of them said a word to the other again.
SCREECH
Oh great. He's in a bad mood. WHY!? It's quarter past four... I was sleeping...
I get up from the bed and trudge to the living room.
"What happened?" I ask him. "Why are you making such a racket?"
"Ugh, my dear brother decided to screw up the case I was working on." he said. I took the violin from his hands and placed it gently on his chair, before wrapping my arms around him from behind. "Why does he insist on ruining my life, John?" he asked.
"I don't think he means to... Besides, he hasn't driven me away." I smiled at him, and he couldn't help smiling back.
"True." he admitted, kissing me on the forehead.
"How about some tea?" I asked.
"Okay..." he said, and I went to the kitchen. I heard him slump onto the sofa. Just a normal Saturday morning. The sun began to rise.
We sat. That's all we did. We sat. Sherlock was wearing that usual expression of boredom, and I was cold. Very cold. We'd been talking. Just talking. Then it had become awkward. Well, it had for me. I didn't know if it had for him. One thing had changed everything. One little sentence that he had said. Three words that should never have come out of his mouth.
"I love you."
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